


Feuer

by Wahnsinn



Series: Rammstein requests [4]
Category: Rammstein
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Friendship to Love, Friendship/Love, Love, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:28:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24479494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wahnsinn/pseuds/Wahnsinn
Summary: Oliver sits with Richard by the bonfire, reflecting on the past and present.
Relationships: Richard Kruspe/Oliver Riedel
Series: Rammstein requests [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689187
Comments: 10
Kudos: 27
Collections: Rammstein - Bonfire - May Prompt





	Feuer

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the monthly challenge of the [Rammstein+ Discord server](discord.gg/mavzqXf) where the May prompt was «bonfire».

Orange flames licking up towards the dark sky. Crackling and popping from burning wood. Heat from the bonfire against skin. Oliver sighed contently where he sat on a blanket with his back supported by the trunk of a large tree, his long arms wrapped around Richard who was leaning heavily against his chest.

“Do you still miss not being on tour?” he said, giving Richard a quick peck on the head. The guitarist had allowed his normal hair colour to take over during the long break. Oliver loved the grey shining through the dark blonde hair, which was normally dyed black.

“The fire reminds me of being on stage,” Richard replied sullenly, stretching his neck a bit, fishing for more kisses.

Oliver smiled, bending his head to place one on Richard’s temple, making the guitarist purr from satisfaction. “Okay, maybe I don’t miss it that much right now,” Richard conceded. “But I do wish that the tour could have gone as planned.”

“Mhm.” Oliver nodded. They had all been looking forward to the second leg of their Stadium Tour. While the first leg had been exhausting, it had been such a rush to be on stage in front of so many people, knowing they were all there just for them.

He remembered that first concert in Gelsenkirchen. As the last one to get up on stage, he had been pacing back and forth in his black outfit, hearing Schneider kick off the drums to _Was ich liebe_ , playing along without sound as the others joined in one by one, just waiting for his own cue. And when he stepped through the smoke and saw the sea of fans screaming at him, his love for the band and his colleagues had been overwhelming.

Even though he loved them all, one of them held a special place in his heart. Oliver had known Richard since they had both been in their twenties. The two youngest Rammstein members had lived together, they had gone through ups and downs together, and when Richard started up Emigrate out of frustration, Oliver had been there helping him out. While they didn’t see each other that often outside of the band, Richard often called him when things were rough. Oliver knew all the troubles he had gone through in his life, and over time, he had developed a deep fondness for his friend, a wish to protect him from everything bad.

Perhaps that was why the tour had become increasingly harder for him as it went on. Richard had often pulled away to recharge with his friend Joe, who had been with them on tour. Oliver knew how important that was for Richard’s mental state, and he made sure to leave them alone, instead seeking his own peace with a book or his guitar in his hotel room. While he was happy to see Richard be affectionate with Paul on stage, he sometimes wished he was small and cute and popular so that the audience would enjoy seeing him kiss Richard as well.

That is why Oliver had savoured the few moments of intimacy they did share on stage. Like when Richard would joke about his height by strutting around him as if he was walking around a Christmas tree. When he came to get a hug after taking a bow. Or when he left his position on stage to come over to Oliver’s side to rock out and send him one of those big smiles that always made him glad that he was wearing a lot of make-up so that no one could see him blushing.

“You are just sad you don’t get to kiss Paul on stage again until next year,” Oliver said teasingly, ruffling Richard’s hair, making him huff a little.

“Yeah, you will have to work hard to make me forget about that.” Richard leaned his head back, glancing up at Oliver. There were more lines around his eyes now, but they had the same playful look they used to have so often when they were young and carefree – to the degree they could be, growing up in East Germany.

Running his long fingers through Richard’s hair, Oliver leaned down to kiss him softly on the lips, making him whine when he pulled away.

“I’m still sad!” Richard pouted, making Oliver smile and kiss him again, a little longer this time, closing his eyes, enjoying the intimacy and the faint taste of the marshmallows they had roasted on the fire earlier.

The pout was gone when Oliver leaned back, stretching his neck before resting his head against Richard’s. Staring into the bonfire, his thoughts went back to the last show of the tour. Richard had seemed so happy with his new girlfriend that Oliver had packed most of his stuff in advance so that he could take off as soon as the show was over. After quickly saying his goodbyes to the others, he had stopped by Richard’s changing room.

The guitarist had been standing by the dresser, putting on a clean, black shirt. When Oliver knocked and entered, he had turned around, smiled, and waved for him to come in as he started buttoning the shirt. Richard had become older, but he had aged gracefully and become more relaxed about his body. Oliver found him even more beautiful without the stage costume and the make-up, when he was just Richard, not the rock star Richard.

“I just wanted to say goodbye,” Oliver had said, smiling wearily at his friend.

“You are leaving already?”

Oliver nodded.

“Well, come here then, and give me a hug,” Richard had smiled, and Oliver had obliged, seeking the warm embrace of the guitarist. Richard was a good hugger.

“I’m really glad to see you so happy,” Oliver had told Richard as he left, and he had meant it. “And remember, you can call me any time.”

And with that, Oliver went back to his life as a regular man, as he always did in between band work, staying away from the spotlight, social media, and the news. The perk of being the most anonymous member of Rammstein, he often thought as he busied himself with everyday tasks, distancing himself from the band, and from Richard…

…until his phone rang in the middle of the night in early January. Scrambling to grab the phone from his nightstand, Oliver saw Richard’s number on the display. The guitarist was single, sleepless, and sad, and Oliver didn’t get any more sleep that night either.

“Hmm?” Richard made a questioning sound, and Oliver realised he had been chuckling a bit to himself.

“I just remembered the day back in January when you came to my place,” Oliver replied, the image still vivid in his mind. After Richard had poured out all his emotions through the phone, Oliver had invited the distressed man over to stay for a while. He had demanded that Richard slept before getting in the car, and that was probably the only thing he had taken his time to do.

Oliver remembered the strange feeling in his stomach as he saw Richard’s car coming up his driveway, and the anticipation as he stepped out to greet his friend. The guitarist looked like he had slept in his clothes, his shirt was all wrinkled, and his black pants had a stain on a thigh. Big, black-framed reading glasses made him look wonderfully nerdy, and his hair was all messed up, but not in the very organised messed up way he had perfected. Richard had looked like a lost kitten, and when he threw himself into Oliver’s arms for comfort, Oliver had hugged him like he never wanted to let go, and he felt himself fall, deeper than he had ever before.

Richard shifted a bit so he could lean sideways against Oliver’s chest. Gently caressing Richard’s cheek, Oliver saw the guitarist’s eyes falling shut, his long eyelashes fluttering a little as he tried to snuggle up even closer even though it was not physically possible. Looking down at him, Oliver couldn’t help but smile, still struggling to believe this was real.

Richard had always been a physical person, just not so much with him. So many times, Oliver had seen him and Paul seeking together on stage, playing arm against arm or back against back, exchanging small gestures of affection. Till didn’t hesitate to lean on Richard or even grab him, although Schneider was definitely the hands-on man when he had a chance, if not during stage transitions, then at least after the last song.

That is why the time that followed Richard’s arrival had been both wonderful and agonising at the same time. Oliver was scared to seek physical contact. When Richard came to steal a hug, or patted his head, or rubbed his arm, he was sure that it was all too obvious how he felt about his friend and colleague. Despite yearning for contact, he had instinctively started pulling away, afraid of his own emotions, afraid of seeming desperate, afraid of going down a path that could end in disaster.

After all, they were colleagues, not just friends, and Oliver could not in good conscience risk the future of the band because of his own feelings. Besides, Richard had just come out of a relationship, he was probably just vulnerable, he was surely not interested, and even if he for some strange reason should be, it would just be a rebound, and besides, why would he be interested in him anyway, it was not like he had shown that much interest in men…

Oliver had been deep in those thoughts when Richard approached him one day.

“Olli? We need to talk.” 

Oliver had frozen in place, mind racing. _Scheiße, he has figured it out. Scheiße, he knows. Scheiße, he is going to leave, and everything will be awkward. Scheiße, Scheiße, Scheiße…_

“What’s up, Richard?” he managed, his voice almost stuck in his throat. “Something wrong?”

Dumping down next to him on the couch, Richard looked miserable. He was wringing his hands, and his eyes were on anything but Oliver. “I –“, he started, took a break, then started again. “I’m so sorry, Olli.”

Oliver’s heart sunk into his stomach. “Sorry for what?” He tried to sound as natural as possible, but was painfully aware that he sounded anything but natural.

Richard made a grimace and rubbed his forehead with his fingers. Sighing deeply, he finally managed to glance up at Oliver. “I’m sorry for coming on to you,” he mumbled, before looking away again.

While Oliver heard what Richard said, his brain could not process it. “What?” he said, and he heard it came out more aggressively than he had planned.

“I said I’m sorry for coming on to you,” Richard repeated, now staring at his feet. “I just – I have always liked you a lot, and these weeks made me realise just how much, and I thought perhaps you also – well, until you started pulling away more and more, and I realised I was wrong, and now I have fucked up everything, and I am sorry, and I just hope we can still be friends…”

A loud crack from the bonfire startled Oliver into a jerk. He felt Richard laugh quietly against his chest. “Not funny,” he fake scolded, hugging the guitarist a little tighter, taking in the smell of smoke and shampoo and just Richard.

How life had changed after that day. Richard had stayed at Oliver’s for a while longer as the two of them explored new and uncharted territory, before he reluctantly headed back to his own place after a month’s time. Though he had been back frequently, and together, they laid plans for how to or if they even should break the news to the rest of the band.

Oliver felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. Releasing his hold on Richard, he fished it out. It was a text message from Till. Everyone had gotten a scare when the vocalist fell ill after his tour with Lindemann and had to go to the hospital, where he needed intensive care. Unable to go and visit him, or each other, the band had stayed in touch through video communication, and when Oliver and Richard both came online from Oliver’s place, it didn’t take the others long to figure out what was going on.

“At least Till is doing well,” Oliver chuckled as he read the message, telling him to keep the fire hot and burning and wishing him good luck.

It was Till’s illness that had made him realise how fragile life can be. And when their tour inevitably got postponed, giving them an unexpected whole year off, he had decided that life’s too short and that he couldn’t wait.

Oliver glanced at the bonfire he had made for the occasion. Richard was all he ever wanted, all he ever needed, and in his arms, and the familiar song started playing in his head as he dug a little deeper into his pocket and even deeper into his courage.

“Richard…” he said, looking down at his boyfriend with loving eyes, “…will you marry me?”

Two blue eyes looked up at him, surprised at first, then filling with tears.

“Oliver – ich… Ja.”

The bonfire made the tears in Richard’s eyes glimmer as Oliver opened the box he had pulled from his pocket, revealing a ring, white gold with onyx and ruby ornaments. Sliding it onto Richard’s finger, intense joy filled his body, and he couldn’t stop smiling, making the following kiss awkward, but still wonderfully intoxicating.

“I guess I should let Till know. He is probably getting impatient,” Oliver hummed, fishing out his phone.

“I should have known he knew about this,” Richard laughed, getting out his own phone. “And I guess I have to let Paul know that I might not be able kiss him on stage next year...”

  


**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always appreciated. Thank you for reading.


End file.
